Not Getting Back With Your Ex Quotes

Rebound sex is fine when you want to rebound and bounce back in life, but when you only want to bounce back into a bed with your ex-girlfriend, rebound sex would only ever turn out to be a regrettable thing ~ Jimmy Tudeski

She had come to analysis because she was, as she put it, "ruining her children." ... "But you are so frustrating," she said. "I want you to take something away from me, and you keep giving it back." And what, I asked, was that "something" she wanted to give away? "The pain. The crazy," she said. She said there was a little shrine, somewhere in the north of Brazil. The land was dry, the town impossibly poor, but people would travel for hundreds of miles to get there, to leave candles, gifts, and ex- voto offerings thanking the saint for answered prayers, for healing, for having rescued them from distress. "I bring you my worries. I bring you my tears. I bring you the dreams I have. I want to leave them here. I want to hang them on your wall and return home healed. But everything I give to you, you give back. You say, like you just said, 'What is this "something" you want to give away?' " Years later I looked it up, the shrine. There were many like the one my Brazilian patient had described. One of them was a kind of cave or grotto, where pilgrims would leave little body parts carved from wood or wax: a foot, a breast, a head. From time to time the priest collected the wax objects and melted them down, making candles to be sold to other pilgrims. The walls and ceiling of the shrine were black with candle smoke and crowded with these suspended offerings. I think now that my Brazilian patient managed at least to give that away, the conjured image of a blackened shrine, hung with ~ DeSales Harrison

He came back up with a brighter smile. "And I'm proven right, again! You guys should hire me for this talent I have. Mom, I bet you have a better sex life with that Garrett dude than you did with dad."
"Logan!"
He turned towards James. "And dad, I bet your sex life is pretty good with Analise. She strikes me as the slutty type."
"Logan!"
He grinned broadly. "And David ... I don't know you that well, but you strike me as conservative. You're only going to be with a conservative woman, maybe one that looks exotic though. I can tell you have control issues. You don't like anyone who is wilder than you, probably why you had problems with your ex, huh? As for the current one, she's hot under the covers, but I don't know if you want her to be." He shook his head in sympathy. "You might want to take care of that. ~ Tijan

I'll fix things up with George soon as she gets here," Anthony mumbled. "You may depend upon it."
"Oh,I know you will, but you'll have to hie yourself back to London to do so, since she ain't coming here. Didn't want to inflict her dour mood on the festivities, so decided it ould be best to absent herself."
Anthony looked appalled now and complained, "You didn't say she was that mad."
"Didn't I? Think you're wearing that black eye just because she's a mite annoyed?"
"That will do," Jason said sternly. "This entire situation is intolerable.And frankly, I find it beyond amazing that you have both utterly lost your finesse in dealing ith women since you married."
That,of course, hit quite below the belt where these two ex[rakes were concerned. "Ouch," James muttered, then in his own defense, "American women are an exception to any known rule, and bloody stubbron besides."
"So are Scots,for that matter," Anthony added. "They just don't behave like normal Enlgishwomen,Jason,indeed they don't."
"Regardless.You know my feelings on the entire family gathering here for Christmas.This is not the time for anyone in the family to be harboring any ill will of any sort.You both should have patched this up before the holidays began. See that you do so immediately, if you both have to return to London to do so."
Having said his peace, Jason headed for the door to leave his brothers to mull over their conduct,or rather, misconduct, but added before he l ~ Johanna Lindsey

It was funny how all the useless knowledge you accumulated when you're in love with someone could sit for years gathering dust in the back of your mind, only to spill out at the slightest reminder. ~ Blakney Francis

Because you're right. I want to control you, darlin'. Not in the way your fucking ex did, in a way that makes you come apart." A hot pulse of need shoots through me, igniting me with his words. He leans in closer and I have to tilt my head back to keep eye contact. "I want to fucking claim you. Tie you to my goddamn bed and force you to submit to me." He presses his mouth to the shell of my ear and I don't fight it, I wait. Wait for everything and more. "I want to do dirty things to you, Kenz. Things only dirty girls enjoy. I want to push every one of your limits so no man will ever be able to make you come like I do." His hot breath moves over my ear and I can't help the shiver that rolls through me. "I. Want. To. Own. You." He pulls back when he's finished. Both of our breathing thick with need. Holy shit. How do you respond to that? ~ River Savage

It's like I'm married to the silencer,
Until I file for divorce and release my ex-calibers.
Do art with your arteries, place that for my adversaries,
Put your snap back cap back, cap your capillaries. ~ Pharoahe Monch

What would you do without me?" he asked one night. We were tangled in the silky sheets of his gigantic bed. My heart was still pounding as I came down from the high of what we'd just done, and he wasn't helping matters by putting his lips so close to my ear.
"Live a happy… happy life," I murmured. "I might even… be an optimist… if you weren't around."
"Liar." He bit my earlobe playfully. "You'd be absolutely miserable. Admit it, Duffy. I'm the wind beneath your wings."
I bit my lip, but I still couldn't hold back the laughter-and just as I was finally catching my breath, too. "You just referenced Bette Midler… in bed. I'm starting to question your sexuality, Wesley."
Wesley looked at me with a defiant glint in his eye. "Oh, really?" He grinned before moving his mouth back to my ear and whispering, "We both know that my manhood has never been in question… I think you're just changing the subject because you know it's true. I'm the light of your life."
"You…" I struggled for words as Wesley pressed his mouth into the crook of my neck. The tip of his tongue moved down to my shoulder and made my brain get all fuzzy. How was I supposed to argue under these conditions? "You wish. I'm just using you, remember?"
His laughter was muffled against my skin. "That's amusing," he said, his lips still grazing my collarbone. "Because I'm pretty sure your ex is out of town by now." One of his hands slid between my knees. "Yet you're still here, aren't you?" His f ~ Kody Keplinger

This is from "Marabou Stork Nightmares".
Bernard's Poem:

Did you see her on the telly the other day
good family entertainment the tabloids say

But when you're backstage
at your new faeces audition
you hear the same old shite of your own selfish volition

She was never a singer
a comic or a dancer
I cant say I was sad
when I found out she had cancer

Great Britain's earthy northern
comedy queen
takes the rand, understand
from the racist Boer regime

So now her cells are fucked
and thats just tough titty
I remember her act
that I caught back in Sun City

She went on and on about
'them from the trees
with different skull shapes
from the likes of you and me'

Her Neo-Nazi spell
it left me fucking numb
the Boers lapped it up with zeal
so did the British ex-pat scum

But what goes round
comes round they say
so welcome to another dose
of chemotherapy

And for my part
it's time to be upfront
so fuck off and die
you carcinogenic cunt. ~ Irvine Welsh

I matched him glare for glare and refused to back down. I'd learnt that much, working with the guys we recruited for protection work. Forget your average heavy ... we used the elite. Ex-commandos used to living behind enemy lines on nothing more than fresh air and dung beetles, and who could zero in on a target using mouse farts three miles away. ~ Mina Carter

If I could read people's minds,
I would not invade your privacy.
Instead I would eavesdrop on every passerby.
tattoo my arms with all the compliments,
every wow she's good looking,
every I wish I was that confident.
Meeting all of your ex-lovers
would turn my chest and back into a masterpiece.
Record every thing they should have told you
every how could I have ever let her get away,
every she was the best thing that ever happened to me.
My legs would turn into patchwork with hatch marks
for every time I wished you were still with me.
It would not take a full day
to cover this body with all of the nice things people
didn't think you needed to hear.

If I could travel through time,
I would go back to the moment
before it was too late. ~ Jared Singer

Why did you defect now? Why here? There are other troll tribes and hundreds of cities that aren't at war with your King."
"But only the Trylle have Wendy." Loki's smile returned but his eyes ere pained. "And how could I pass on that?"
"She is married, you know," Finn said. "So it might be a good idea if you stopped trying to flirt with her. She's not interested."
"It's up to her to decide who she's interested in," Loki said, with an edge to his voice. "And it's not exactly like you're following your own advice."
"I am her tracker." Finn sat up in bed, but this time I didn't try to stop him. His eyes were burning. "It's my job to protect her."
"No, Duncan is her tracker." Loki pointed to where Duncan stood in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at their confrontation. "And Wendy's stronger than the both of you combined. You're not protecting her. You're protecting yourself because you're a lovesick ex-boyfriend."
"You think you have everything figured out, but you don't know anything," Finn growled. "If it were up to me I'd have you sent back to the Vittra in a flash."
"But it's not up to you!" I snapped. "It's up to me. And this conversation is over. Finn needs to rest, and you are not helping anything, Loki."
"Sorry," Loki said and rubbed his hands on his pants.
"Why don't you go back to your room?" I asked Loki. "I'll be over to talk to you in a minute."
He nodded and got up. "Feel better," Loki said to Finn, and he actually soun ~ Amanda Hocking

You had two prerequisites." Regin plopped down on a snowbank. "And I do believe I have Russian ex-mil contacts, and I speak the language-"
"Oh, come on! I've since learned that you do not by any stretch. You think Dostoyevsky is Russian for 'How 's it hanging?'"
She blinked up at Kaderin as she paced by. "Then how do you say it?"
"I-don't-know."
"Then how do you know it's not Dostoyevsky? No. Really." She blew a bubble with her gum – possibly the first to do so at this location – but it flash-froze, and she had to crunch it back to gum consistency with her molars. "Obi-Wan, I was your only hope."
(Kaderin and Regin) ~ Kresley Cole

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Mr. Sturgess ran the classes with iron, ex-military discipline. We each had spots on the floor, denoting where we should stand rigidly to attention, awaiting our next task. And he pushed us hard. It felt like Mr. Sturgess had forgotten that we were only age six--but as kids, we loved it.
It made us feel special.
We would line up in rows beneath a metal bar, some seven feet off the ground, then one by one we would say: "Up, please, Mr. Sturgess," and he would lift us up and leave us hanging, as he continued down the line.
The rules were simple: you were not allowed to ask permission to drop off until the whole row was up and hanging, like dead pheasants in a game larder. And even then you had to request: "Down, please, Mr. Sturgess." If you buckled and dropped off prematurely, you were sent back in shame to your spot.
I found I loved these sessions and took great pride in determining to be the last man hanging. Mum would say that she couldn't bear to watch as my little skinny body hung there, my face purple and contorted in blind determination to stick it out until the bitter end.
One by one the other boys would drop off the bar, and I would be left hanging there, battling to endure until the point where even Mr. Sturgess would decide it was time to call it.
I would then scuttle back to my mark, grinning from ear to ear.
"Down, please, Mr. Sturgess," became a family phrase for us, as an example of hard physical exercise, strict discipline, an ~ Bear Grylls

His smile got even bigger. Yeah, Ace, a day of you cryin' in my arms, sleepin' in my arms, kissin' you, feelin' your body, smellin' your hair, your perfume, only so much a man can take. I ran for an hour, hard, didn't even fuckin' warm up, it didn't touch it. Come back, deal with that fuckwad, (that's her ex) and you're standin' there, all legs and hair, wearin' my shirt. Seriously. Only so much a man can take. ~ Kristen Ashley

When was the last time you were kissed?" he went on easily. "And I'm not talking about the dry, noncommittal, meaningless kiss you forget about as soon as it's over."

I scrambled out of my stupor long enough to quip, "Like last night's kiss?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "That so? I wonder, then, why you moaned my name after you drifted to sleep."

"I did not!"

"If only I'd had a video recorder. When was the last time you were really kissed?" he repeated.

"You seriously think I'm going to tell you?"

"Your ex?" he guessed.

"And if he was?"

"Was it your ex who taught you to be ashamed and uncomfortable with intimacy? He took from you what he wanted, but never seemed to be around when you wanted something back, isn't that right? What do you want, Britt?" he asked me point-blank.
"Do you really want to pretend like last night never happened?"

"Whatever happened between me and Calvin isn't your business," I fired back.

"For your information, he was a really great boyfriend. I-I wish I was with him right now!" I exclaimed untruthfully. My careless comment made him flinch, but he recovered quickly.

"Does he love you?"

"What?" I said, flustered.

"If you know him so well, it shouldn't be a hard question. Is he in love with you? Was he ever in love with you?"

I tossed my head back haughtily. "I know what you're doing. You' ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

when it is but it ain't

Some of us love badly.
Sometimes the love is the type of love that implodes.
Folds in on itself. Eats its insides.
Turns wine to poison.
Behaves poorly in restaurants.
Drinks. Kisses other people.
Comes back to your bed at 4am smelling like everything outside.
Asks about your ex. Is jealous of your ex.
Thinks everyone a rival.

Some of us love others badly, love ourselves worse.
Some of us love horrid, love beastly.
Love sick love anti light.
Sometimes the love can't go home at night,
can't sleep with itself, cannot contain itself,
catches fire, destroys the stomach,
strips buildings, goes missing.
Punches. Smashes heirlooms.
Tells lies. The best lies. F*s around.
Writes poems, impresses people.
Chases lovers into corners.
Leaves them longing. Sea sick.
Says yes. Means anything but.
Tricks the body.
Kills the body.
Dances wild
and walks away, smiling. ~ Yrsa Daley-Ward

I'M SORRY

I am developing a new board game. It's called "I'm Sorry." It's also a form of "Self-Help Psychological Therapy!"

You take turns moving around the board like Monopoly. But if you land on a Yellow or Green "I'm Sorry Space"… you have to make a Phone call. Both green and yellow cards are labeled- the same with things like: Your Ex, Parental figure, friend, co-worker, boss, children, etc. You get the point…

If you land on the yellow space, the game stops, everyone gets quiet and you have to call that person up – on speakerphone. You apologize for something you've done in your past. Come on you know you are not perfect and you probably screwed up, hurt or disappointed everyone in your past at one time or another. So you call and you apologize. You explain what you did to them wrong if they forgive you, you move forward 10 places and everyone cheers! No forgiveness back- you move back to the beginning.

If you land on the green space- it's similar. But you call the person up and you try to explain to them how, in someway, they hurt you in the past. If they apologize… cheers and you move forward 10 spaces. No apology… move backward ten spaces. They curse at you- game over.

In the original packaging of the yellow and green cards, are mixed in a set of "I'm Sorry Cards." If you are lucky enough to get to pick up an "I'm Sorry Card," it's like a Get Out of Jail Free Card, and you don't have to make the call.

Th ~ Jose N Harris

What's the purpose of being single, if all your going to do is play game? What's the purpose of saying your single, when you're still chasing your Ex? What's the purpose of knowing you're single, if you're going to compare the new to your last? What's the purpose of being single, if your not going open up to let a person know you? What's the purpose of saying you're single, if you're going to let someone else decide on who you deal with? So before you say you're single! Ask yourself, are you're really single or someone else's back up plan. And if so, are you happy? ~ Jerome D. Williams

His ex is a nightmare's nightmare. You know, the kind where you wake up and you think you're safe but then you realize you're still asleep and you're still in the nightmare but this one is way worse and finally you wake up with a jolt and your skin is all tingly and you know, you just know someone is in the room and you're going to be brutally attacked and killed." I leaned back. "That's Tate's ex. ~ Kristen Ashley

Steve Forman strafes the south Florida scene with Boca Knights, an outrageously funny mystery novel with a raft of offbeat characters and prose that moves trippingly off the pen. His main man, Eddie Perlmutter, ex-Boston cop attempting semi-retirement in Boca Raton like a fish trying to retire out of the water, is a character for the ages. Carl Hiaasen, watch your back. ~ Douglas Preston

My heart, which I thought had been dead, stopped. Of course. I had been betrayed. My ex boyfriend had reneged on his promise to love me, and this odious event had a name: betrayal. Somehow, knowing this calmed me down. And I began to contemplate betrayal. My conclusion? It is the most difficult of all woundings. Betrayal comes in many forms. It's not just about being cheated on or left for another. It's about any promise, overt or implied, that has been broken without your participation in the decision, or even knowing that a decision was on the table. It's about believing something that you later find out is untrue. It's no wonder that the first response to betrayal is likely to be denial. It's an enormous shock to find out that a solid reality is not so solid after all. It can feel like the most deviant form of attack. When betrayal is at the root of your pain, something horrible is unleashed. Different and perhaps more horrible than the pain of disappointment, grief, or anger. With other causes of suffering, you can at least pretend you have some measure of control. You can blame the other person for disappointing you, you can read books that outline and predict the course of grief, and when you're angry you can always fall back on self-righteousness. But when you're betrayed, you have been blindsided and your vulnerability is confirmed. You lose a misplaced innocence that you really can never regain. Your ability to trust is basically obliterated. And not just your trust ~ Susan Piver

I'm in love with your ex-wife," ... "I've loved her since high school, man. She means everything to me. You gotta drag her down, that'll suck, but I'll pick her back up. You gotta rip her apart, I'll fuckin' hate watchin' it, but I'll put her back together. ~ Kristen Ashley

And your ex, or maybe you're back with her
I don't know, Emma. I read some of what she wrote
To you when I broke into your gmail account.
She's charming. A little shallow maybe ~ Ariana Reines

Hiya, Alex. I missed you tonight."
My gaze rests on Sam. "Yeah, I see how much you missed me."
"Sam? Oh, I don't really like him," she coos, coming close. I can smell the mota radiating off her. "I'm waiting for you to come back to me."
"Not gonna happen."
"Is it because of your stupid chemistry partner?" She grabs ray chin, trying to force me to look at her, her long nails digging into my skin.
I grab both her wrists and pull them aside, all the time wondering how my tough-as-nails ex-girlfriend turned into a tough-as-nails bitch. "Brittany has nothin' to do with you and me. I hear you've been talkin' shit to her."
"Did Isa tell you that?" she asks, her eyes narrowed into slits.
"Just back off," I say, ignoring her question, "or you'll have a lot more to deal with than a bitter ex-boyfriend."
"Are you bitter, Alex? Because you don't act bitter. You act like you don't give a shit."
She's right. After I found her sleeping around, it took me a while to get over it, get over her. I wondered what other guys were giving her that I couldn't.
"I used to give a shit," I tell her. "I don't now. ~ Simone Elkeles

There's a guy out there who's going to be really happy that you didn't get back together with your crappy ex-boyfriend. ~ Greg Behrendt

Two starving kids and tree-hugging vegetarians. I'm going to kill Chase."
Phoebe didn't blame him. Despite her lack of experience in the cattle-drive department, even she could see the potential for trouble. Then a familiar figure standing beside the driver caught her attention, and she waved. Maya grinned and waved back.
"It's Maya," Phoebe said.
Zane turned and followed her gaze. "Just perfect," he muttered as his ex-stepsister walked toward them.
"You're looking grim, Zane," Maya said cheerfully when she joined them. "Who died?" She smiled. "Oh, I forgot. You're just being your usual charming self." She squeezed his arm. "You've missed me, I know."
Zane's eyes narrowed. "Like foot fungus."
She laughed and turned to Phoebe. "You're still alive. I see Zane didn't bore you to death."
"Not even close." Phoebe hugged her friend.
Maya waved forward the bus driver, a pretty woman in her fifties. "Phoebe, this is Elaine Mitchell."
"You're the one Maya worked for in high school?" Phoebe asked.
"I am."
Maya put her arm around Phoebe's shoulders. "And this is my BFF, Phoebe."
"Welcome to Fool's Gold," Elaine said with a smile.
Instead of her usual suit and high heels, Maya wore jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and boots. Her blond hair was pulled back in a braid.
"You look like a local," Phoebe said.
"Speaking of locals," Maya began, a note of warning in her voice.
"Oh, shit," Zane said before she could contin ~ Susan Mallery

At last, somebody in line steps forward. "I can commit," he says. He's a tall, lean young man with a rifle slung over his back.
"What's your name?" Chris asks.
"Andrew," he replies. "And I'm in."
Chris nods. A few other guys step forward and, after a few moments, the entire crowd of ex-POWs takes one step, signifying their decision. My chest swells with pride – pride for Chris's leadership, pride for the people willing to give their lives to take down Omega.
It's a rush. ~ Summer Lane

...our job sometimes is to divorce ourselves from the fact that I've got to constantly be gifting young people with tools and equip them with - I'm imparting lessons upon them. Sometimes it about, look you hate reading, my job is to figure out how to help you not hate reading. The rest of it we can get to, but I got to figure out how to get you engaged. In order to do that sometimes you got to pull back. Right. You got to put a little grease in the pot. Right. So if that means you've got to have them reading rap lyrics in your class, then that's what it is. If that means you got to have them reading comic books or the athletes reading Sports Illustrated and the sports section in ESPN Magazine, then that's what it is. Our job is not just - it's not to just promote literature, which is what we all do. Our job is to promote literacy and there's a difference. Right. There's a difference. Literacy is what will help them way more than what literature will do. ~ Jason Reynolds

You build your world around someone, and then what happens when he disappears? Where do you go- into pieces, into atoms, into the arms of another man? You go shopping, you cook dinner, you work odd hours, you make love to someone else on June nights. But you're not really there, you're someplace else where there is blue sky and a road you don't recognize. If you squint your eyes, you think you see him, in the shadows, beyond the trees. You always imagine that you see him, but he's never there. It's only his spirit, that's what's there beneath the bed when you kiss your husband, there when you send your daughter off to school. It's in your coffee cup, your bathwater, your tears. Unfinished business always comes back to haunt you, and a man who swears he'll love you forever isn't finished with you until he's done. ~ Alice Hoffman

I have found that fate has a warped tendency to let things simmer down for awhile to lead you to believe everything is all hunky dory. Content on just letting the life altering hurdles lay beneath a seemingly calm surface, luring you blindly into a new chapter of your life with the impression of smooth sailing up ahead only to have the unexpected spring up in front of you. Testing you, to see whether or not you have what it takes to roll with the waves, or sink like a stone beneath the waves. It is up to you to decide to stand back up, brush it off and continue fighting. ~ Stephanie Mayfield

If it will reassure you that I'm not a coward, I suppose I could rearrange his face." Quietly he added, "The music has ended," and for the first time Elizabeth realized they were no longer waltzing but were only swaying lightly together. With no other excuse to stand in his arms, Elizabeth tried to ignore her disappointment and step back, but just then the musicians began another melody, and their bodies began to move together in perfect time to the music.
"Since I've already deprived you of your escort for the outing to the village tomorrow," he said after a minute, "would you consider an alternative?"
Her heart soared, because she thought he was going to offer to escort her himself. Again he read her thoughts, but his words were dampening.
"I cannot escort you there," he said flatly.
Her smile faded. "Why not?"
"Don't be a henwit. Being seen in my company is hardly the sort of thing to enhance a debutante's reputation."
Her mind whirled, trying to tally some sort of balance sheet that would disprove his claim. After all, he was a favorite of the Duke of Hammund's…but while the duke was considered a great matrimonial prize, his reputation as a libertine and rake made mamas fear him as much as they coveted him as a son-in-law. On the other hand, Charise Dumont was considered perfectly respectable by the ton, and so this country gathering was above reproach. Except it wasn't, according to Lord Howard. "Is that why you refused to dance with me when ~ Judith McNaught

See, you're walking really fast now, you don't need it at all," she called after me. I stopped and turned around. I could feel my cheeks burning. The bus station was full of people. "Nobody would pretend to be a cripple! Nobody would use a stick they didn't need! You should be ashamed of yourself for thinking that I would. If I could walk without it I'd break it in half across your back and run off singing. You have no right to talk to me like that, to talk to anyone like that. Who made you queen of the world when I wasn't looking? Why do you imagine I would go out with a stick I don't need - to try to steal your sympathy? I don't want your sympathy, that's the last thing I want. I just want to mind my own business, which is what you should be doing. ~ Jo Walton

Love After Love The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other's welcome, and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart. Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate notes, peel your own image from the mirror. Sit. Feast on your life. ~ Derek Walcott

Know Deeply, Know Thyself More Deeply"

Go deeper than love, for the soul has greater depths,
love is like the grass, but the heart is deep wild rock
molten, yet dense and permanent.

Go down to your deep old heart, woman, and lose sight of yourself.
And lose sight of me, the me whom you turbulently loved.

Let us lose sight of ourselves, and break the mirrors.
For the fierce curve of our lives is moving again to the depths
out of sight, in the deep dark living heart.

But say, in the dark wild metal of your heart
is there a gem, which came into being between us?
is there a sapphire of mutual trust, a blue spark?
Is there a ruby of fused being, mine and yours, an inward glint?

If there is not, O then leave me, go away.
For I cannot be bullied back into the appearances of love,
any more than August can be bullied to look like March.

Love out of season, especially at the end of the season
is merely ridiculous.
If you insist on it, I insist on departure.

Have you no deep old heart of wild womanhood
self-forgetful, and gemmed with experience,
and swinging in a strange union of power
with the heart of the man you are supposed to have loved?

If you have not, go away.
If you can only sit with a mirror in your hand, an ageing woman
posing on and on as a lover,
in love with a self that now is shallow and withered, ~ D.H. Lawrence

What did it look like?"
"My watch? It was silver. Not expensive or anything. Just a regular watch."
"Shiny?"
"I guess."
"Raccoons."
Determined not to say anything stupid for at least the next ten minutes, she considered his single-word statement. Raccoons? Okay. He probably hadn't started a word-association game, so what did he mean?
Going with the safest response, she cautiously repeated, "Raccoons?"
"They like shiny things. Take off with them whenever they can."
"You're saying a raccoon stole my watch?"
"Probably."
She really wanted to point out that they couldn't possibly tell time, but knew instinctively that was a bad idea.
"Can I get it back?"
"Sure. If you can find it."
Could she? She glanced around at the underbrush, the trees, the stream.
"Is it safe for me to go exploring?" she asked.
"You're not likely to be attacked by raccoons, but you'll probably get lost, fall down a ravine, break your leg and starve to death. But if the watch is that important to you, have at it."
She felt herself deflating. "You don't like me much, do you?" she asked sadly.
She half expected Zane to stalk away, but instead he exhaled and shook his head.
"Sorry."
She blinked. "What?"
"I said I'm sorry."
Had the earth stopped turning, or had the taciturn hunky cowboy standing in front of her just apologized?
"I--you--" She paused for breath. "That's okay. I guess it was a stupid questi ~ Susan Mallery

A tiny smile played over his lips as he glanced down at my hand. "Do you mean to win me over with feminine wiles? I must admit it is a more diverting notion than your usual method of screaming at me like a fishwife."
I did not rise to the bait. I simply looked at him. "Please."
He caught his breath, a slow smile warming his features. "My god, you are trying to seduce me."
"I am not." I said primly. "I am merely trying to get your attention."
He bent swiftly and kissed me hard, pulling back so suddenly I nearly toppled over. "I believe I have already made it quite clear you have my attention. ~ Deanna Raybourn

He continued with his research until he found a book entitled The Ultimate Dating Guide: How To Find The Perfect Girlfriend and Keep Them. He flipped through the contents and found the chapter called flirting with confidence. He took out a pen and notebook from his back pocket and scribbled some notes. Praise her body the book advised. Tell her you find her attractive. He decided he would record the key phrases and chose the right moment to recite these to Katie. He wrote you have come to bed eyes. Your eyes were the key to the soul and I like what I see ~ Annette J. Dunlea

Always, endeavor, Slick, to keep a fix on the addiction industries: you can't lose. The addicts can't win. Dope, Liquor, gambling, anything video--these have to be the deep-money veins. Nowadays the responsible businessman keeps a finger on the pulse of dependence. What next? All projections are targeting the low-energy domestic stuff, the schlep factor. People just can't hack going out any more. They're all addicted to staying at home. Hence the shit-food bonanza. Swallow your chemicals, swallow them fast, and get back inside. Or take the junk back with you. Stay off the streets. Stay inside. With pornography... ~ Martin Amis